


Hot for Tutor

by BlackDog9314



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nerd Castiel, Tutor Dean, both of them are so dorky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/BlackDog9314
Summary: “What do you mean, you don't understand?” Dean asked.He was sitting at one of the tables in the computer lab just behind the school cafeteria, and Castiel Novak was beside him, his dark hair messier than he'd ever seen it on account of the many times the other boy had run his hands through it as he listened to Dean.“I mean, I don't understand,” Castiel repeated, his full lips turned downward and his brow furrowed. He was self-consciously clasping his hands beside the outdated gray keyboard in front of its corresponding computer. His nails were clean and neatly filed, his knuckles smooth and his fingers almost delicate looking. Dean dragged his eyes away, setting his worn pencil down on the desk and shuffling his papers in an effort to remind himself what he was supposed to be doing right this very second.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble I was randomly inspired to write =)

“What do you _mean_ , you don't understand?” Dean asked.

He was sitting at one of the tables in the computer lab just behind the school cafeteria, and Castiel Novak was beside him, his dark hair messier than he'd ever seen it on account of the many times the other boy had run his hands through it as he listened to Dean.

Castiel's tan trench coat was draped over the back of the blue plastic chair he occupied, and the dorky, pressed collar of his white dress shirt was looser than usual (not that Dean had a habit of looking), the top button of it long-undone, now.

“I mean, I don't understand,” Castiel repeated, his full lips turned downward and his brow furrowed. He was self-consciously clasping his hands beside the outdated gray keyboard in front of its corresponding computer. His nails were clean and neatly filed, his knuckles smooth and his fingers almost delicate looking. Dean dragged his eyes away, setting his worn pencil down on the desk and shuffling his papers in an effort to remind himself what he was supposed to be doing right this very second. They were alone in the computer room, Dean noticed as he caught sight of the outdated clock mounted on the far wall. It was almost six o'clock on a Friday evening, and most everyone else had gone home, teachers, student-tutors and their struggling counterparts included. He hadn't realized how long he and Castiel had been going around the same subject material in circles, and the knowledge was somewhat jarring.

“I've explained it to you four times,” Dean said in what he hoped was a neutral tone after making sure his stack of cheat-sheets and charts had been thoroughly shuffled once, and then again for good measure. He'd been regularly volunteering to tutor at Reidel High for almost a year now, and had lost count of the times he'd had a fellow student fail to comprehend something after he'd painstakingly explained it; that was par for the course, and he was well-used to it. If he'd had a dollar for every time someone made him repeat himself, he'd have earned all the time he'd freely given to the endeavor over the past seven months. This, however, Dean didn't get.

Castiel Novak was one of the smartest kids in their school. At a year younger than Dean's seventeen he'd already racked up numerous academic accomplishments, been featured in the local paper more than once, and had single-handedly given their school a name in the Gifted and Talented competitions he entered. The fact that the guy was sitting here now, shaking his head in myopic confusion as Dean tried to explain the cosine feature of his T-91 calculator, was nothing short of mystifying.

“I don't...” Dean tried to tread carefully, realizing then how bad he was probably making Castiel feel. It wasn't his place to berate anyone for not getting something, no matter how unexpected the situation was. As a tutor, he should know better, really.

Dean scolded himself sternly for a second before starting again, determined to be the good tutor he knew he was capable of being, and to do right by Castiel. “I'm sorry. That wasn't cool of me. Let's go over it from the top.”

He grabbed the calculator from Castiel and quickly cleared its screen, setting it down and reaching out to his left to pluck a sheet of clean paper from the stack near the printer. Once he was set, he opened his mouth to start again, hoping that this time it would click for Castiel.

“Okay, so we're gonna—”

“I—” Castiel interrupted him, pausing for a moment before continuing. His eyes were screwed shut as Dean raised his head to look up at him, and his blue tie was twisted in the fingers of one hand. “I actually do get it,” he said jerkily.

Dean shook his head guiltily, feeling bad that he'd upset Castiel so much without meaning to. “No, it's okay. You don't have to say that. It's fine, let's just go again—”

“No, I mean, I've actually understood the whole time,” Castiel said, opening his eyes. His high cheekbones were flushed a dark pink, now, and his tie bore the nervous indentations of his grip. He looked at Dean intently, his dark blue eyes almost unsettlingly intense. “I know every function of this calculator.”

To demonstrate, he politely took the device from Dean, expertly thumbing his way through the bulky menu of functions and views. He graphed a few functions, writing down the very steps Dean had thought were going straight over his dark, messy head. He truly did understand, Dean admitted after a few minutes had passed in this way and the sheet of paper before them was covered in Castiel's chicken scratch.

“Then why come here?” Dean asked in surprise as Castiel set the calculator down.

“I just—I wanted to _talktoyou_.” The last few words were said in a rush, and it took Dean a second to process what exactly they were.

“You wanted to—oh,” Dean sat up rigidly, feeling his own face begin to color as he looked down at his hands rather than at Castiel. Had Castiel wanted to talk to him to tell Dean he'd felt his eyes on his back in their shared class, and that he was not amused? Dean suddenly felt somewhat trapped, and wished he could think of a plausible excuse to leave the computer room without his reasons for doing so being entirely obvious.

When he found the nerve to look up again, Castiel was nodding stiffly toward him before looking away with poorly-feigned insouciance. One of his pretty hands was drumming a pattern on the edge of the desk, its corresponding foot tapping restlessly on the streaked, laminate floor. Castiel seemed as nervous as Dean felt, and that made him wonder if perhaps he was misreading the situation.

Moving carefully, Dean turned to face Castiel more fully in his seat, clearing his throat before venturing, “You could have just said hi to me in class, y'know.”

“I thought this would be...better. I know you don't...don't hang out with people like me,” Castiel said cautiously, hanging his head just a little.

Dean huffed out a laugh, almost delirious with relief. “Are you kiddin'? Jo's literally rebuilding a car from the screws up with her dad, Charlie's hacking the school's homepage right now, and Ash is fuckin' scary with a welding torch. I hang out with whoever the hell I want, and _you_ shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Mister I-wear-a-trench-coat-even-when-it's-a-million-degrees-out.”

Castiel turned to look at him again, a slow smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He looked almost shy as he moved his chair closer to Dean's so that soon they were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Oh,” he said simply.

Dean turned to look at Castiel, finding himself almost nose-to-nose with him.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said with a grin. "It's not like _you_ need to study tonight."

 


End file.
